Phantoms

The following is the writing located on the above page.Non-corrected, errors in tact.

wrapped around my brain, another soul all tooclear had risen. It seems recently phantomsof my past were all my head conjured duringmoments of spontaneous self-destruction. Whycertain morbid happenings were clearer than anypleasantries my delusions had to offer goes farbeyond my own comprehension. I remember notthe names of those who’ve passed throughbut their faces crystal clear. A groupof familiar presences surrounded me as theypresented that burnt image inside myself.I could not tell whether I wept for thepast pain I could not change or my currentdesire to make the phantom a mirror of myselfbut all the same I wept as it fadedeven within a dream my desires remained outof reach. Despite their painfully clear nature.

I recall the mockery intent upon dismantling mealso quite clearly. They claimed the phantom wasmine, that is had been so and it smiled being so.But I knew this to be the case for inside my headI continued to hesitate and stumble on a question.One that would allow the phantom to clarify if ittruly was mine, but alas I failed my task. Itis not of pity I seek but simply of fixing mycracked mind I write. Sympathy so often asphantoms haunt me, for it also is that whenheld close within the mind the justification ofyour pain soon becomes nigh impossible. ThoughI highly doubt any of my pain should be so. Andperhaps also a warmth should be spoken of forthe phantoms that haunt me, for it is each theirunique beauty and elusiveness that raises them in my mind. And to re-capture this even in fleetingmoments grants me the equivalent of ever sohighly sought eternal peace.